


Yippee Aw, Yippee Yea

by silverraven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, Fisting, M/M, Porn With Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverraven/pseuds/silverraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <span><a href="http://lavishsqualor.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://lavishsqualor.livejournal.com/"><b>lavishsqualor</b></a></span> for her prompt of <i>Sam/Dean in their cowboy gear, I don't care when, why, or how, there just needs to be more of this</i> on <span><a href="http://spn-rambleon.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://spn-rambleon.livejournal.com/"><b>spn_rambleon</b></a></span>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yippee Aw, Yippee Yea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lavishsqualor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavishsqualor/gifts).



> A really big thank you to [](http://fishpatrol.livejournal.com/profile)[**fishpatrol**](http://fishpatrol.livejournal.com/) for the beta and all her great suggestions! Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Spoilers for 6.18 'Frontierland'

Sam doesn’t share Dean’s Wild West fetish. He doesn’t get what’s so special about no indoor plumbing or electricity. Or, the clothes. What’s the big deal about cowboy hats, belt buckles the size of his hand, chaps, and pointy boots with spurs?

Dean’s into it though. He always insisted on being the cowboy when they played Cowboys and Indians growing up, and the couple of times Dad had money for Halloween costumes, Dean always picked the Wild West sheriff.

So when Dean had stepped out in his getup from Wally's Western World -- a serape, really? -- with a huge grin on his face, Sam hadn’t thought much of it. He’d only shrugged, long since accustomed to his ridiculous idiot of a big brother.

And then they had been zapped into the past and those damn boots smished his toes something awful, and spending hours riding a smelly horse was nothing but a sure fire way to numb your ass, legs, and nose. Give Sam the air conditioned Impala any day of the week.

Dean seemed to be eating up the whole thing -- minus the saloon girls, that is. But Darla trying to plant one on Dean was pretty amusing, and Sam started thinking that maybe it wasn’t so bad there, when they heard the scream from upstairs. Then Sam had other things to think about besides Dean’s weird Western obsession and forgot all about what Dean was wearing.

Until they were back home and he got his first good look at what Dean was wearing.

 _Jesus Christ_. Trust Dean, who made an orange prison suit look good, make a collared shirt, buttoned vest, and dark brown longcoat look downright pornographic.

When Dean had put on his hat again after they opened the package containing the phoenix ashes, Sam’s heart started beating double time. It was all he could do to keep his hands to himself. He’d hoped to hell that Dean wouldn’t be changing into his regular clothes anytime soon.

Then Castiel left to wherever he goes to and Bobby said he felt well enough to go out for a supply run, kept on insisting _you two idjits don’t know the exact things I need_ , and Sam didn’t argue.

Once they were finally alone, all bets were off. The second Sam could no longer hear Bobby’s car, he had grabbed two fistfuls of Dean’s longcoat and shoved him against the wall, Dean’s hat flying off as Sam all but attacked his luscious mouth.

Never mind that Dean’s the hottest looking cowboy Sam’s ever seen and had been driving Sam crazy for hours with the need to touch, it’d been over a week since they last did this, and Sam missed it, missed being close with Dean.

Now, they’re lying on a pile of their cowboy gear on the floor, Dean in only his shirt and vest, unbuttoned, and Sam down to just his hat (Dean had insisted Sam go fetch it and put it on or he wasn’t putting out).

Sam’s got two fingers in Dean, stretching and scissoring, getting his brother’s hole ready for his cock.

“Shit,” Dean hisses as Sam directly hits his prostate, back arching and head thrown back, sweat pooling at the hollow of his throat and Sam can’t resist licking at it. “Enough, Sam, you’ve been fingering me forever. Quit being a little bitch and fuck me already.”

Sam rolls his eyes; it’s only been like five minutes, but whatever, there’s only one thing to do after that comment anyway.

Sam hikes up Dean’s legs, spreads his thighs wide and sticks his tongue up Dean’s ass.

Dean howls, body tensing up for a short moment before going boneless, and Sam would grin in triumph if his mouth wasn’t busy.

He licks and nibbles around the rim, feels the shiver that runs through Dean.

“God, yes. Love when you eat me out, Sammy.” Dean pushes more of his ass into Sam’s face, and when Sam’s hat starts to fall off, Dean is quick to put it right back on. Kinky, and Sam loves it. He loves how Dean always reacts this way to him, opening his body up and letting Sam take his full, like he can’t ever get enough of Sam.

He spreads out Dean’s cheeks more, licks from Dean’s hole back to his balls and groans when he gets a good look at Dean’s shiny, pink hole. He flicks his tongue inside a couple of times before dipping in as far as he can and going to town, not stopping until Dean’s a quivering mess, gasping and moaning, and grabbing at whatever his hands can reach.

When Dean reaches for his dick, Sam bats Dean’s hand away, grunting his disapproval, as saliva rolls down his chin.

“Shit, possessive sasquatch, ain’t ya?” Dean asks, not knowing the half of it.

The heady feeling Sam has at having Dean laid out so gorgeously before him, wanting it all for himself, wanting everything Dean can give him and knowing Dean will give it and more, Sam only need ask -- it’s thrilling and arousing and electrifies every cell in Sam’s body.

Sam lowers Dean’s legs, keeping them spread and bent at the knees. He reaches out blindly until he finds the lube he tossed away earlier, half buried in one of Dean’s boots. He slicks up three fingers and shoves them into Dean’s slightly open and puffy hole with hardly any resistance.

Fuck, that’s hot.

Dean moans loudly, pulling Sam down and holding on to him tightly, muffling his sounds against Sam’s shoulder as his ass pushes down against Sam’s fingers again and again. He looks for all the world like he’s riding out wave after wave of intense pleasure.

It causes something inside of Sam to burst.

“You’re amazing like this, Dean, so fucking beautiful.” He knows Dean doesn’t like hearing stuff like that, that if Dean wasn’t so far gone, he would ream Sam a new one but Sam can’t hold the words back, not when they’re true.

“More, Sam, _please_. Need more,” Dean pleads, sounding _hungry_ , and Sam is hopeless to do anything but obey, sliding in another digit.

Dean keens, tilting his hips up and moving his head until their eyes lock, his pupils blown wide open and Sam thinks his own must look the same. “Want your dick. C’mon.”

Even with what they’re doing, Dean is still his brother and Sam can’t resist teasing, “Who know you were such a cockslut... thought you loved ‘posse’? Gonna make it into a shirt and everything, remember?”

“I’ll make you into a shirt,” Dean mutters, no threat in his voice at all, and then fucking _whimpers_ when Sam twists his fingers just so.

“But you love this,” he whispers in Dean’s ear. “Love that it’s _my_ fingers in you. Love getting all nice and open and ready for baby brother’s dick, don’t you?”

He feels more than he sees Dean shake his head but that’s okay, Sam acknowledged a long time ago that Dean won’t ever really accept how much he wants this, wants _Sam_ to be the one fucking him. And that he blames himself for Sam wanting him back.

But that’s okay too, because Sam knows he has the rest of this life and whatever comes afterward to convince Dean otherwise. And, for however much Dean likes to pretend otherwise, Sam knows exactly what gets Dean off hard.

“Yes,” he says and bites sharply at Dean’s ear. “Look at you, Dean. So goddamn gorgeous like this. Spread out for me, flushed from head to toe and squirming on my fingers. You feel so good, tight and warm… could fuck you like this all night. Would you like that? My fingers in you for hours, maybe get my whole hand in you.”

Dean gasps and gives a full body tremble at the words.

Sam smirks. “Want your little brother to fist you, Dean?”

“Sammy,” he whines, spreading his legs even wider at the same time as Sam feels a denial about to fall from Dean’s lips. He doesn’t let it though, presses his mouth to Dean’s instead, licking inside.

Dean immediately kisses back, wrestles his tongue against Sam’s, his hands clutching Sam’s shoulder.

“Let me?” Sam asks even though he knows there is only one answer Dean will give.

“Yeah.”

He squirts more lube on his hand, feels Dean righten his hat that had been skewed sideways during the kiss, and grins. Not a fetish, his ass.

Dean’s body opens right up, like he’s _welcoming_ Sam’s fingers, and Christ, Sam’s doesn’t care that he’s fucked Dean so many times before, the pure want is still there, heat pooling directly in Sam’s belly, his body buzzing with need.

Three fingers turn to four, not much room anymore and Sam can’t control the movements as much as he could before, but he tries his best to twist until he’s rubbing against Dean’s sweet spot.

Dean moans, hips moving to meet Sam’s fingers.

Sam can’t take his eyes of him. The sweet noises coming from his mouth, the sleek muscles of his abdomen and pelvis working against Sam’s fingers, the miles of glistening skin, covered with sweat, the hard dick jerking toward his belly. All of it, for Sam.

He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted Dean more.

Sam’s in to the base of his fingers now, squeezing more lube around his hand, his wrist, his thumb that's hovering around the rim. So close, so fucking close now.

He barely dips the tip of his thumb in when Dean keens, body shuddering. “Oh God, Sammy, Jesus, I don’t, you’re-- _oh_ ,” he gasps when Sam works in the widest part of his hand.

Everything stills then, nothing but the sound of their labored breathing in the room. Dean’s grimacing and Sam hopes to hell Dean isn’t about to say no. Right until this moment, he had no idea how badly he wanted this, how badly he wanted to see his entire hand disappearing inside Dean, feeling what’s it’s like inside of Dean, and watching Dean just _take it_.

“Dean?”

He doesn’t answer Sam right away, breathing in and out deeply a couple of times, trying to relax his body. “Yeah, Sam, okay.”

Sam doesn’t hesitant, pushing past the last resistance until he’s buried to his wrist.

Dean yelps. “Fucking Christ, Sammy,” he hears Dean pant but doesn’t pay attention.

This is it. This is _it_. Smooth heat squeezes Sam’s hand and he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t hear anything but the thundering of his own heart, can’t see anything but Dean’s body swallowing him whole.

Without thinking, Sam shoves his hand in a little more, twists.

It’s the noises, little whimpers and chokes, that make Sam blink, shift his eyes to Dean face. Dean’s eyes are closed, lashes fluttering over his cheekbones, lips slightly open, looking lost in sensation. He opens his eyes then, as if he feels Sam’s glaze on him, and what Sam sees in their depths makes his breath catch.

“ _Dean_ ,” he says, the one word that means everything to him, _is_ everything to him.

Dean reaches out to Sam, pulling him closer and hooking his legs over Sam’s shoulders. “Come on, give it to me. Fuck me.”

Sam starts moving his hand slowly, inching out and back in, does it again, eyes darting between Dean’s face and ass. The pretty pink hole is stuffed so full, clutching Sam’s wrist obscenely. Dean’s legs are trembling and his stomach muscles are fluttering while he looks up at the ceiling, biting his lip.

That won’t do.

Sam makes sure to hit Dean’s prostate on the next upstroke, pressing against it over and over, soaking up every soft, wet noise coming from Dean.

“You’re so tight, so perfect around my hand. Fuck, can’t believe you’re-- what’s it feel like? What’s it feel like having your baby brother’s--”

“God, shut _up_ , Sam.”

Sam pushes in a little more just to hear Dean groan and bit off a curse.

“Tell me.” It’s not a request.

He stills his hand, leaving it inside Dean and waits. He’s not prepared for the way Dean writhes against him, grabbing Sam’s forearm and seeming trying to fuck himself on Sam’s hand.

“Please, _Sammy_ ,” Dean begs, his eyes big and pleading, it’s enough to kick-start Sam, easing his hand almost all the way out and then back in, setting up a careful rhythm.

He keeps it up, watching enthralled at the way Dean back arches, body quivering and jerking around Sam’s fist, pushing into it, fucking himself, grunting and gasping, hands trying to find purchase on the bed of clothes.

And, finally, _finally_ , Sam gets the words he’s been wanting.

“So full, Sam, fuck, so full, so big, your whole damn hand, feels fucking huge and I-- I can’t--” Dean chokes, clamping down around Sam’s hand as the rest of him stiffens, and then he’s coming all over himself, spilling all over his chest and shirt.

Sam thinks he could come himself from just the sight but doesn’t, just barely. He pulls his hand out ever so slowly, winching at the way Dean stifles a sob, stares at Dean’s red and used hole before lowering Dean’s shaky legs.

Sam lies down on his side beside Dean, watching the rise and fall of Dean’s chest, Dean’s cock softening. Dean’s shirt and vest are a mess, wrinkled and soaked with semen and sweat. He palms Dean’s stomach idly, rubbing in the come.

He has no idea how long they just lay there, Bobby won't by back until mid-morning, so Sam’s in no rush. He belatedly realizes he must have lost his hat somewhere along the way, a quick look around the room reveals nothing. Dean’s hat is nearby though.

Eventually, Dean turns his head to look at Sam, frowning when he notices Sam’s cock, still fully hard, and then smirks.

Sam’s on his back a second later, Dean pinning him down.

“What the hell, man?” he asks, not resisting, just curious.

Dean lifts his upper body and kneels atop Sam, his thighs bracketing Sam’s hips, his ass cradling Sam’s cock sweetly. He reaches for his hat, puts it on and looks down at Sam with a wicked grin.

“This cowboy still wants a ride, Sammy.”


End file.
